


Brinley ✓ | Sex Slave #0.5 | Gay boyxboy Romance | 18+

by kittykat44



Series: No Rest For The Wicked [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Boyfriends, Dark, Dom/sub, Drama & Romance, Erotic, Erotica, Everyone Is Gay, FTM, Gay, Gay Male Character, Gay Sex, Historical, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Male Slash, Master & Servant, Master/Pet, Master/Slave, Multi, Oral Sex, POV Male Character, Romance, Sex, Sex Slavery, Shorts, Slavery, Soulmates, Submissive, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Yaoi, explicit - Freeform, softcore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 20:05:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17987714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittykat44/pseuds/kittykat44
Summary: In the dark wintry recesses of Baneberry Lane where the sun seems to set earlier than the rest, passion blankets the streets. Known as the Valley of The Shadow of Death by the commoners for the dangerous folk it harbors. There's a house at the corner of the street underneath the pavement where a lone mollyboy stays with his dying mother with no inclination to trouble.Brinley knows people look at him. He sees the disgust in their eyes, he understands. The same dysphoria follows him as he looks at his body. Being born a girl, took nothing from him knowing he was a boy. So he carries on, deepening his voice and binding his chest. Hoping one day, the misgendered notions would drop and people see him.Finn was born into wealth. Yet, the one thing he wants is the one thing he can never have. It's the secret he keeps against his family. Being attracted to the same sex is seen as a passing moment in one's life. Finn knows that sex in his world is never followed by anything as absurd as love. So he carries on, still he craves and late at night, his desires take over him and he imagines what his life would feel like if he dropped all the pretenses.They could only shatter each other's worlds.





	1. Brinley | Lily of The Valley

**Author's Note:**

> Note: This is a short story set before the timeline of "Arsenic." It is not necessary to read this before reading "Arsenic", it can also be read as a standalone.
> 
> "The way we fall into one another. So naturally like our love was carved of the earth.
> 
> There are star systems bursting at our fingertips when we touch.
> 
> We are in tune. The universe planned for us.
> 
> I know it.
> 
> I know it. "
> 
>  
> 
> © All Rights Reserved.

** Chapter 1: Lily of The Valley **

It had been raining and snowing hells murder all week. Winter in Baneberry Lane had always been the worst season of the year. The dark and cold seemed to bring out the worst in people, and when you lived on a street where only the wicked resided. You'd count your lucky pennies if you could be anywhere else during the damn winter.

This was all running through my head when I opened the small latched window beside my bed. If you could call it a bed, that is. All it was, was stitched cotton on a broken wood floor. Still, the only real bed we could afford went to Ma, she needed it more than I ever would.

The sun kissed my nose first. I nearly let out a hiss of discomfort. In all the time I lived in this sick street, the sun never showed itself during the Winter. Something was amiss. Trying to indulge in the little positiveness this brought, I let the warmth mixed with the cool air heat my skin, shutting my eyes closed. It almost felt like The Valley was giving me a glimmer of hope, this day would get me through the Winter.

I got up and dusted any debris that fell on my sheets from the rickety wooden top of our house. Stretching myself, I went to the slab of a mirror that I kept on top of a cabinet. My hair had been a mess from the bed and my eyes held dark circles that seemed to be a permanent asset.

I hated looking in the mirror. When I had been thirteen, I had enough of it. Enough of my long hair, my name, my chest, myself. Everything that felt like it belonged to someone else had been plastered on my life. So I broke the tall rectangular mirror and watched it shatter into different shards. Using one, I cut the ends of my long hair, and made it so it looked like what the cobbler's boy had it like. Using another, I cut out stretched fabric that I found beside a market. I used that fabric to bind my chest so that it lay flat against my clothes. The last shard was used to disrupt the one thing I could never hide, nor change. Just beside my cunt, I sliced the skin on my inner thighs and made sure all the blood dried before scratching it off.

One piece of the mirror was kept by my mother. She returned it to its place on top of the wooden cabinet and I used it now to remind myself that I was closer to being who I wanted to be everyday. Yet, people would always look at me the same. So, I soothed myself the same way I did all those years ago.

I move out of the room and into the small boxed kitchen we had. I heated some water on the metal stove my mother so deeply cherished and threw some tea leaves into a mug. Using a heavy cloth, I poured the hot water in and watched as the tea leaves morphed into an inkpot.

"The sun's up, Ma. You should get some light on yourself. It'll do ya good." I screamed from the kitchen. Putting the pot back down, I dusted my hands on my long grey shirt. My voice had always been rough. I made it rougher everyday but it didn't mean I couldn't feel the constant scratching against my throat. 

I heard a light scatter of coughs come from her room and I closed my eyes at the sound. I needed to get her the proper medicine the physician had mentioned. Except, it was the dead of winter and there were no needed jobs for people my age that didn't involve offering up your fanny for sale. If it came to it, I would do anything for Ma, I was just hoping it would never have to.

When I walked into her room, it was almost like you could smell the infection in the air. She had a cloth in her hand that had specks of pink blood on it from her mouth. She was awake and looking out at the window beside her bed. We only got a small peak at the streets above us and an even smaller show of the sky. We couldn't afford rent after three years ago, but the landlord had died of cholera and no one ever came looking for the house that was below ground.

Ma turned her head toward me and smiled softly. I leant against the doorframe and watched as she tried sitting up on her bed. It took some effort and I stopped myself from helping to see how bad she was today. Turns out, worse than usual. I inched myself into the room and placed the mug beside her bed. Helping her sit upright, my head painted a picture of her bones beginning to rust from not leaving the house and her heart starting to slow from the underuse.

"You worry too much, my boy. Your eyes speak a different language that only mothers and lovers can understand," she whispered once I managed to get her against the bed frame.

She always called me her boy after I told her my heart was in a different place than my sex. She never once judged, punished or questioned me. Instead she told me that she felt like I was a boy when she carried me, and she had always chosen the name "Brinley" had I come out one.

People don't seem to understand that genitalia doesn't dictate your identity. It's hard to make people understand when for years, we have been told differently. But my mother understood. She is still, the only one.

"I'll make you some warm soup and then we can try and make you walk outside to the porch. It would be a waste to stay in bed when the sun wants to meet my Ma."

She laughed a hearty laugh and my heart felt like it was being crushed by my ribcage. I always thought that was a funny physics. The heart was such a powerful organ that it had to be caged.  _Do all powerful things end up in cages?_

"You speak in such poetic verse for a southside boy, Brin. It would be hard to understand you to be anything but a lover," she didn't acknowledge her going out but I saw her small head nod and took that as defeat (or acceptance, depends whose side you're on)

"I'll go make some soup, Ma. Get you the morning paper. You just... focus on bettering."

I left the room and the coughs rejoined the silence in which it festered.

 


	2. Finn | Where The Heart Is

** Chapter 2: Where The Heart Is **

I knocked on the door to my father's office and waited for his voice to call me in.

Lincoln had told me that I was to see him this morning, but it took me all that time to get out of my own head to what he could possibly want. It was now deep in the late afternoon and I hadn't gone down for lunch with my brothers and sister.

"Enter," I heard him grumble through the door and took a deep breath in. I pushed the wood and saw that my father was at his desk writing something on a document. He placed the pen in the ink bottle before looking up at me. Getting up from his chair, he didn't say a word. I swallowed and waited for him to walk to his drinks. Pouring himself the glass of dark liquor he needed to talk to me, he took a sip.

"Finn, take a seat."

I managed to make my feet move towards the seat that was placed opposite of his desk. My father remained besides the drinks table and I sat myself down, staring at the handful of paperwork that lined his desk. He managed a business that I wanted no part of, but the sole reason of being a  _Waitstill_  associated me to it for as long as I lived.

"I've been thinking about introducing you to a couple of people from the firm. You're nearly at the age where both Micah and Theo started getting a handle on the runs and the batches. Hell, Micah runs things smoother than I do sometimes." He said in a hurry. It felt pressed, like my presence in his office was as much of a disruption to equilibrium to him as it was to me. "Would finally give us something to talk about" The last line came out with an awkward laugh.

I looked at the documents again. There was so many that had the Waitstill stamp. I never felt like that stamp belonged to me. Nor did the ring that wrapped around my finger. One that was given to all the Waitstill boys, one that pledged our loyalty to the company.

My mother died when I was around seven years old. I was always closer to her than I was to Father. My memories from when I was smaller are still blotched. Like someone spilled wine over the images in my head, and all that I can see is a faint outline of the time now past. All I can smell wherever I walk is the potency of failure. Ever since she died, Father did near nothing to fill the deficit I had in my heart. Something that large could only be aided with love, and Nicholas Waitstill lacked in that department like a penguin and flight.

I cleared my throat, not moving to look at him. "Father... I," I tried pushing the confidence to my throat. It felt bitter and strong enough to make me want to run out and get some breathable air into my lungs. "I don't think I'm made for –"

"Don't be absurd, Finn. You're my son. It's called a  _family_  business."

I felt the tears prick behind my eyes. Trying to swallow down any sense of dejection, I knew this was the only time I could make my feelings known.

"I don't  _want_  to be a part of it, Father."

The silence stretched in the air and I could hear the brief sound of the glass being put down on wood. I shut my eyes briefly and my body tensed at the sound of my Father breathing more heavy.

"You're first meeting with the board will be with Micah on Tuesday. Be on time, Finn" his voice returned to the tone I remembered. His words clipped and the message final.

I finally turned my head and looked at him. He had dark circles underneath his eyes and I could see the grey hairs all around his sideburns. This was the image of my father; stoic, stubborn and near whatever poison he chose for the night.

I opened my mouth to repeat what I had said. Thinking maybe I said it in my head, he hadn't heard me.

"And I shall assume by next year you shall be getting a slave of your own. It will be good practice for when you have to train or handle them. Egerton and Crogsworth will guide you and teach you if you'd like. But your mind is as agile as your mothers so I assume it will only take them a couple of sessions."

His mention of my mother brought me out of my stupor. "Father, I don't want a slave. Nor, do I want to run or help run the company." I could hear my voice rising and the power it held surprised me. Apples never fall far from the tree. "I would like to attend a finishing school. I want to to become a medic or a physician. Someone who could cure or find cures. Had there been one smart enough when Ma died, perhaps she would still be with us. I plan on becoming that, Father. I want that!"

"Do not fucking talk of your mother's death, Finn Waitstill!" his voice was booming across the walls now. Instead of sitting down and listening like I usually did, I got up from my chair and faced him head on. He needed to understand.

"Not talking about it doesn't make it disappear! I want to find love of my own. Not someone who you've stolen, beaten or molested from the streets! I don't want to be a part of something that means inducing pain on another human!" My voice had risen to match his.

"You will leave right now, boy. Or I swear on all that is merciful, you shall be begging for it."

I shook my head in manic apathy. I could feel the tears beginning to cloud my vision. I watched my father's eyes find mine. He followed one tear trail down my cheek and before I could open my mouth to try and make him understand once more, I saw his hand rise.

The pain flashed before my eyes before the actual situation happened. I saw his hand connect to my face and the pure pressure of the hit made me shut my eyes and flinch back.

"Man the hell up, you insolent excuse of a son. Only faggots cry. Get out" he seethed.

I moved my head forward and all emotion drained from my face. Without looking at him, I took a couple steps towards the door and stopped. The taste of iron burst in my mouth and I licked my tongue out to feel my bottom lip split in two.

I forced my hand up and exited the office.

The house was bustling. There were servants, chefs and keepers walking around everywhere getting reading for Elle's birthday ceremony. Hers was different to Micah and Theo's. So much so that no one was invited. It was a night solely for her. My father had already reserved a dinner meeting for that night, ensuring his absence. If you could describe my father's relationship with me and my brothers as loveless. His and Elle's was something that bred only in the darkest alcoves of Earth.

I walked forward to the main dining room and past the adjourning kitchen where I saw Elle speaking to a female cook. As if the only god given gift I had was invisibility, I managed to walk all the way to the grand exit with no trouble nor disturbance.

The butlers were all getting ceremonial assets ready, so no one had been at the door. I pulled the handle myself, feeling the weight strain my arm muscles. There were usually three or four people manning the grand entrance, the ceiling high door was heavy enough to make it a difficulty for even then. Yet, determination seemed to take form in an army as I slipped through the exit and finally let in the breath I never knew I was holding in.

The cold winter air stung my cheeks and I felt the prickle sensation of the chill lick where my tears had wet my cheeks.

The carriage boy asked me if I needed to depart somewhere. Like I was out of my own body, I shook my head at him and fleetingly whispered something about going for a walk down the pathway.

Walking down the long path that lead to Waitstill manor, I left everything behind. I put my hands in my coat pocket and savored the ache that the cold brought. I felt a small pouch clink in my pocket and prayed to everything I wouldn't get robbed.

The sun was beginning to set and when I reached the main street, I hailed a riding carriage boy. I asked him to take me to the Main Town Square.

"I'm afraid I can't today, Sir. I 'ave to head home to me Missus. Birds go home. I go home." He smiled apologetically and I saw the tobacco stains that dyed his teeth.

"Where's home?" I asked

The rider looked taken aback by the question. I felt my stomach ache from the lack of any meals throughout the day. I put one foot on the edge of the carriage and waited for his reply out of decency. I didn't care where he said. I just knew I needed as far away from the North side as possible.

"The Valley... O' Excuse me sorry. You ain't gun' know it by that. Baneberry, Sir. Home is Baneberry Lane."

I hadn't heard what he said of course. I had already entered the carriage before he finished his sentence. "Then that's where I'm going."

He briefly looked at the cut on my lip and the potentially blotched cheek I sported and sighed. He looked down at the floor of the carriage before nodding, turning back his head and clacking his mouth. The horses began to ride and soon enough, we were at a steady pace going wherever he mentioned he laid rest.

Maybe a stranger's so called home could be my salvage for the night. 


	3. Brinley | Tenfold

** Chapter 3: Tenfold **

It took a while for Ma to drink the chicken broth I made her, as it usually does this time of night. The morning newspaper lay on the ground near her bed and I went to pick it up.

"I'll get that in the morning, Brin. You leave it there for now."

I smiled beside myself. She hadn't managed to see the sun, it was setting now – so close to disappearing and taking the warmth with it. I tried getting her off the bed. Some days are worse than others and and today happened to be one of those days.

The fever was taking over every cell in her body. After enduring a series of degrading slurs from walking the streets filled with afternoon drunkards. I had finally made it to the physician's shop to see if he needed any help during the Winter. Only to be sent back both without any medication or hope for money to buy it.

The Valley was home to many things, but  _hope_  never seemed to be one of them.

Shaking myself from my thoughts, if focused back to Ma. "I'm sure you will, Ma" I left the paper on the floor and made note to wake up and pick it off the floor.

Blowing out the candles that lined next to her bed, I rubbed my left shoulder. It had been aching all Winter, but the salve that my old caretaker boss had given me was over.

I kissed her on her forehead and wished her a well night sleep. Making sure to remind her that I'll see her tomorrow. Some days, I never knew if it was a question or a statement.

I left her room and shut the door behind myself. Looking at the small little hole we lived in, I sighed and told myself not to cry. Not tonight.

I moved to the kitchen and cleaned up the pans we had. Leaving the chicken broth to the side as that pot was still hot from the metal stove. After everything was done, I opened the drawer underneath the utensils and pulled out the small blue box that was kept within it.

Lifting to the counter, I opened the latch and looked inside. Three bronze coins. Lay flat at the bottom of the box. I swallowed the fear and the questions that came attached to those three coins. We were still in the middle of the deadest part of Winter. With no job or savings or stock kept, I was lying to both Ma and myself if it didn't mean we would starve to death. The irony of my failure killing my mother before that fucking fever would be the lowest part of my already pathetic life.

I shut the box and left the coins in it. Latching it and putting back in the drawer, I shut the drawer and turned around, my body against the counter. I slipped down and sat on the floor with my back on the wood. I placed my head in my hands and counted to ten.

I had made it to eight, with nine just on my lips when I heard a clattering sound come from the open window beside the entrance.


	4. Finn | The Witching Hour

** Chapter 4: The Witching Hour **

I sat down on the corner of the pavement that had no house above it for me to disturb. The liquor I had been drinking all through my time spent in Baneberry Lane had long since passed my head. I was completely sober, and I completely felt worse than I did in the afternoon.

I felt the side of my cheek were the blood from my mouth had dried and the sting of my father's hit had cooled down. I was hungry, cold and lost, but neither made me want to find my way back to the manor.

So I sat with my legs spread out in front of me and my expensive white shirt had enough grime and dirt on it to make any servant lady at the house gasp. I laughed to myself at the thought. I quickly shut my lips in case anyone saw me and thought of the wrong idea. Night was closing in and a crazy young teenager was sitting at the side of the road with nothing but the shirt on his back and the small pouch in his pocket.

I coughed against the cold and knew I had to find somewhere warm to sleep for the night. Perhaps, I could convince a bakery if I could sleep outside their furnace enclosure. I thought I would be able to find a lodging house when the carriage driver dropped me at the head of the street. Yet, the first passing woman I asked laughed straight at my face.

"Ain't nobody wantin' to lodge in The Valley, lad. Get yur wits aboot you" I strained to understand through her accent. It turns out the further south you go, the deeper the illiteracy and unability to articulate. Then I thought it was nice of her not to rob me having known I was wealthy from  _my_  accent. So I asked her where the nearest bar was instead.

"Plenty of those around" before redirecting me to a pub just on the edge of Baneberry Lane. It turns out she had a kid around my age and she knew if had the choice, he'd stay the hell away from The Valley as often as he could.

I wondered why the people called it The Valley. I later asked the bartender and he looked at me like I fucked his wife in front of him. I quickly paid for the four pints of beer I had and ventured out the pub.

So that left me here, at the corner of Baneberry Lane. Just dark enough for no one to see me and jump me. Yet, in a place where the dark just so happens to be where the residents most feel comfortable.

"Excuse me, can I help you?" the softest voice sung from behind me.

At first, I thought I might still be drunk. Perhaps, I wasn't as sober as I initially made myself out to be. No voice that gentle was made for a place as verminous as this.

"Sir?"

I turned my head around and looked down a set of stairs to a young boy around my age standing in front of a doorframe with a lit lantern in his hand. I swallowed a cold breath and stared at his features.

The moonlight and the candlelight was enough to make out the choppy dark brown hair that sprayed against his forehead. His youth given away by the smooth lines of his face. I couldn't stop looking. He had a splatter of freckles across his nose, his eyes a hazel from what I could make out.

"I-I'm sorry" I spoke before trying to get up from my position. The swift change made my head rush and I lost my balance before tripping over my own feet. I saw the boy dash from the door and run up the stairs to where I now lay on the cold pavement.

I raised my hand to let him know I was okay, and mentally hit myself for being so clumsy. I got up to my feet and dusted my hands by the sides of my coat. I looked at him and was taken aback by how close he stood now.

I could see the curves of his face and the dips beneath his eyes. He shifted under my scrutiny and looked at the pavement underneath us. Not knowing if it was a game of the light, but his features seemed too soft for somewhere like this place. For somewhere like this world.

"I didn't mean to wake you. I was just –" I paused.

_What was I doing?_

"I was already awake." He murmured. I saw him shaking slightly from the cold and realized that I completely lost track of the escaping heat from my body. His voice seemed different from the people I met today, so did his accent. I could hear the distinct southside tilt to the ends of his sentences, but it was like he was forcing himself to sound deep.

Thinking perhaps it would be rude to ask or hover, I left the topic. Yet, I couldn't get myself to turn around and walk away from him.

Before I could think of anything to say to make my desire to hear him less obvious, the boy spoke first. "What are you doing in Baneberry, sir? If I may ask."

"Finn. My name's Finn. Don't – please don't call me Sir. I'm probably not too much older than you" I said into the distance between us that seemed palpable now. Frankly, I was never one for words. I hated conversation, socializing even more so. I always stood back and observed whilst my brothers and sister did all the charming and pleasantries. There was only so much false plastic I could wrap around myself before it began to eat into my flesh.

The boy nodded in front of me and I saw his cheeks redden. I wanted to think it wasn't from the cold, but I knew it was.

"I just needed... needed some space to think." I finally answered.

"Have you come here to die?" The voice was a bare whisper against the enveloping dark. It sounded stark and cold, with nothing in offer linked to safety. Yet, it brought me comfort of great proportions. 

I didn't say anything. I couldn't take my eyes away from the way his lips moved. How it molded around each word that came out of his mouth. I felt warm thoughts flood my mind. Thoughts I usually kept for the middle of the night when I couldn't sleep at home. Thoughts that helped me escape from a present I hated. I imagined his mouth on other places.

Like clockwork, the boy shifted on his feet and licked his lips, his body letting me know he was uncomfortable at me looking so closely at him. I forced my eyes away and focused on a spot on the ground.

My father's voice rang in between my ears.  _Faggot_.

I was never a violent person. I never thought an act of violence was justified. Had every regent, general and commanding officer sat down and gone about creating a new way to peace, decades of bloodshed, warfare and persecution could have been halted. Yet, the one and only time I ever could see myself hurting someone is punching whoever made that fucking word in the first place.

"I think you ought to go home... Finn"

I raised my head at the sound of my name from his voice. I wanted to hear him say it again, I wanted to hear him say more.

"I don't actually know where that is for today." I shrugged before moving my body around. Maneuvering myself to sit back down on the pavement. If sleeping in the cold and suffering from frostbite, starvation and a possible assassination through the night meant not having to enter that manor for as long as possible. So be it.

"N-no, don't... You'll just... You're going to get jumped. By the morning, everything including your bloody socks will be taken off you" his voice came out rushed, like he didn't know who he was trying to convince.

"Well unless you have a spare room, that will just have to be it" I was too tired to argue with anyone. I was too hungry to stay on my feet anymore. I needed to shut my eyes and just temporarily stop the pain. All of it.

I heard the boy sigh frustratingly and move around in his feet. I saw him head back before hearing all footsteps halt. I heard them retreat and come closer to me.

"How much money do you 'ave on you?"


	5. Brinley | Silver Coins in the Dark

** Chapter 5: Silver Coins in the Dark **

He looked slightly confused by my question. I decided to give him a minute or two to catch up with my thought process. It looked like both of us were desperate for something at that moment. So I made light of the situation.

With the three bronze coins looming over my mind, I was in dire need of something, anything. Like miracles, this young man sat before me with a coat worth more than my life and weight put together. With a haircut that all but stamped him with luxury, and the same streetwise aloofness that would get anyone killed around these parts.

I was surprised he even made it through the time he spent in The Valley. I didn't know how he wasn't stripped and walking naked across the streets, trying to find his way back to his twelve story grandeur building of a home.

Suddenly, the thought of him naked flooded my thoughts and I felt the heat rise to my cheeks. He was beautiful. Anyone would be blind to say otherwise. His dark hair tangled from the cool wind and his plush lips chapped, still he stood with an overwhelming sense of beauty. He probably had a lover back in the Northside just as beautiful as him. She was probably just as rich as him. She didn't have to afford medicine and salves and food and necessities. No, those were probably handed to her on a silver platter with rose shavings on top.

I swallowed a hard lump that sat at the back of my throat. Whatever he was thinking, he needed to speed it up.

"You can sleep in my room and I'll sleep in the living room" I said even though our living room was more like a living closet. "I'll give you something to eat and plenty to drink. My house will be yours to sleep and eat for the night."

I saw him nodding, following along.

"Just 'ave to know how much you paying for it." I said. My words sounded tight but in all honesty, he could give me half a shilling and I would still let him sleep wherever the hell he wanted.

He nodded twice before reaching into his pocket and brought out a small leather-like pouch. He didn't speak much, but he didn't have to. He had eyes that gave away most of what he was thinking.

He didn't even open the drawstring, instead just handed the entire pouch to me. I reached down and took it in my hands. I laughed in near hysterics. The pouch was heavy enough to mistake rocks. They could be a handful of small change, but any noise clanking around by the likes of this calls for attention.

"You were supposed to be dead the moment you stepped foot in this side of the district, Finn. You should thank whatever god you pray to that today brought the sun."

I heard him grumble something under his breath but didn't pay attention. I focused on not disrupting the leather material from the pouch, thinking I could pawn the pouch for a little something down by the magistrums office.

I nearly choked on a breath when the pouch opened out. Inside lay a handful of silver coins that all but sparkled against the midnight moonlight. I closed my mouth and willed myself not to make any sounds of uncertainty. Was this counterfeit money? The thought crossed my mind, so I reached inside and took one silver coin in my hand.

Sure enough, the ridges of the metal and the emblem carved into it seemed unlike any fake. What this stranger had just given me could feed Ma and I through winter. Hell, it could feed the whole damn army through winter.

I looked at Finn, who had his eyes closed but a small smile on his face. His head against the brick wall behind him. I caught my breath at how the moonlight caught his skin. Once again, I found myself in a stupor.

I shook my head remembering who I was, and who I could never be. This was only a night of sanctuary for a rich stranger.

"My name's Brinley...let me show you inside, Finn."


	6. Finn | Bread and Apricots

** Chapter 6: Bread and Apricots **

The house felt more like a cottage, and the cottage felt too close to a home to be called anything close to a house.

I stepped into the kitchen where Brinley had rushed off too. I saw him light something with a match and he began to stir a big pot. I heard the slosh of the liquid against the silence of the home and thought perhaps he was feeding me soup.

I took the time and looked around the place, observing silently. There wasn't many things, but the little tokens and objects scattered around the small living space seemed to have nothing of value. An oil lamp lit the living space and the flickering light made me walk towards the table on which it stood.

Sitting down on a chair in front of it, I folded my arms on the table and rested my head on top of them. I watched the dying light as the oil started to burn out. It never occurred to me that the situation was desperate. Inviting a complete stranger into a house for a stack of coins seemed absurd, yet almost like a miracle at the same time.

I never believed in miracles. Statistical improbabilities were always present in the lives we lived but miracles seemed something that rose from a fantasy mind putting words on promiseless paper.

I startled when a hand came forward and poured more oil into the small basin that the wicker was coiled in. The fire burst to life again and I looked up at Brinley who had two bowls in one hand and some spoons in the other. Against the moonlight, he looked like a Athenian sculpture, but now against this glow, it was almost something real.

I saw him swallow and place the bowl in front of me and the spoon beside it. He then placed the other adjacent to where I was and ventured back behind me into the kitchen. After two more trips there and back, in front of me lay a bowl of chicken broth that was steaming enough to make my skin warm. There was also a small fired mud slab of bread cut into slices.

"Thank you, Brinley," I tried the name out on my tongue. It rolled out almost instinctively. "I didn't imagine this would be where I rest for the night, but then again I didn't imagine me sleeping at home, supposedly either. "

"It really should be me thanking you, but you're welcome." he looked down at his bowl, picking up the spoon he slowly scooped spoonfuls of broth into his mouth.

My hand hovered over my own spoon, but my eyes stood transfixed on the way his mouth curved when the spoon slipped in and out of his lips. I felt an almost immediate reaction to the way his eyes stayed lidded down and he didn't look anywhere ate me. His tongue peeked out to lick a bead of broth and the blood rushed to places my Father would kill me for if he knew.

I pulled my gaze away from him with some adversity. I dipped the spoon into the hot broth and brought it to my mouth. The dull liquid was nothing like what I was offered back at Waitstill Manor and I loved it and it's creator all the more for it. I reached for a slice of bread and dunked it into the broth. Putting the soaked bread into my mouth, I decided to get as much of him as I could before we slept for the night and I had to depart in the morning.

"Do you live alone?" I asked, I hadn't seen anyone around the house, yet there were two doors and one of them had been closed. I prayed that he didn't live with a significant other, not for intruding in their home but in selfish hope.

"Na, I stay with my Ma. She's..." Brinley paused, almost hesitant to say anything he shouldn't. I wanted to hear more, I wanted to tell him about my mother. How she was the only thing that I ever held dear and she left me. I saw him shift his eyes to mine and I didn't break the contact. I held him there and willed him to see me as an equal.

"She's got one of them fevers," he spoke softly. His voice hoarse with an emotion that sounded too much like mourning for someone of his youth. "I needed the money for medicine."

I nodded. "I was seven when my mother died. A fever had taken her and I know I would have done anything to put a stopper to it. So I wish I didn't spend in the bar. It should have belonged to you."

He started shaking his head, a small laugh on his lips. "You've given me enough to buy medicine for the whole damn Valley, Finn. That... I don't even know where to begin with that."

I looked down at my broth and the hunger swelled so deeply in my stomach that I pulled the bowl up and cupped it in my hands. I then put my lips to the edge and drank the chicken stocked liquid like a starved soldier. When I put the bowl done, I saw Brinley looking at me surprised. His eyes shifted to my wet lips and I rubbed the back of my hand against it. The movement caught him off guard and he went back to looking at his own bowl.

"I'm sorry about your mother, Finn. "

In another life, I wasn't branded a Waitstill. In another life, I went to finishing school and got taught by the enlightened scholars and learnt how to find the cure to the fevers that plagued our communities. In another life, I was a medic and found Brinley once more.

"Don't let it take yours like it took mine." I whispered into every parallel universe that lay between us.

Soon, easy conversation resolved among us. I had another two bowls of chicken broth and Brinley had finished his meal long before I did. The bread was nothing short of crumbs on the slab and my body felt warm all over. Brinley was almost too easy to open out to, perhaps it was because he was a stranger. I would never see him again, and that left me no reason for dishonesty.

"She doesn't know that we all see her gawk at Radella. She has had this infatuation ever since Radella applied for a staffing job within the culinary servants. All I can wish for is that nothing actually happens between the two of them," I laughed.

I saw Brinley's smile disappear and a slight frown laced his brows. His features as I had been noticing seemed soft, too soft almost. Unlike any other young man's I've ever seen before. He was beautiful.

"Why's that... Because she's poor or because it's a sin to feel attraction for the same sex?"

I choked back a cough, sitting up. I lean't forward towards him and looked at him directly when I said, "Both those reasons, because my Father is a prick and not everyone can live in a utopia."

I saw him breathe in harshly and realized that our proximity was the closest it had ever been. I lean't back a bit not wanting to make him uncomfortable. "We can't always get what we want, Brinley. It may seem like everything in my world fits perfectly, but that's so far from the truth."

"What do  _you_  want?"

I looked to him and saw the question in his eyes. His lips were parted and a heavy intoxication fell over me. All I wanted was to reach out and close the gap between us. It was wrong, and I wanted it. Needed it.

I closed my eyes and smiled, "Do you have a cook you're in love with too, then?"

I saw Brinley's eyes drop slightly and the tension in the air diluted. The small smile returned to his face and he spoke in a hushed whisper, "No lovers. Not very people want me and you'll find that a lot of people actually dislike me here."

"I find that hard to believe"

"That people dislike me?"

"That you aren't wanted."

He looked at me then, and it felt like everything about this night was absurd. Everything but  _this_. Everything about us was different except for the fact that we were the exact same. Brinley's eyes deviated across my face, almost like he was memorizing this moment like I was. Drawing me into memory. His eyes lingered on my lips and I wanted to move closer to him. Just as I convinced my body to mover where it desired, Brinley stood up.

"I think I 'ave a couple apricot's in the cabinet, I'll go see if I can get 'em" He scratched the back of his neck and licked his lips before faltering toward the question.

I nodded casually and waited for his return.

He came with two apricot's in his hand and he looked like he had been running his fingers through his hair. I didn't understand what was happening, nor did I want to try. I enjoyed this stranger's company more than my family's. Perhaps, my thoughts and desires were wicked, but that's what they would stay to be. Thoughts not actions.

He handed me an apricot and I thanked him. At home, fruits weren't a luxury but I could tell that Brinley only offered me the apricot as a ways to give me an extent of what I paid for. I wanted to tell him it wasn't necessary but couldn't bring myself to make him move away from me again.

"What is it you do in the Southside?" I asked as I bit into the small fruit, feeling the nectar burst into my mouth. The seed hit the corner of my front teeth and I pulled back to chew.

Brinley watched my mouth before biting into the fruit himself. He chewed while he answered. I smiled at the prospect, speaking with your mouth full was ill mannered in my house but I wanted to see him do it whenever he pleased. "Not at all really, if yur ever in the mood of getting jumped or stolen from. I'll show you around"

I laughed and watched him smile against the fruit, his eyes twinkling with mischief. Over the course of the night, I learnt that he had a southside accent but it was well formed than the other's I had heard. Almost fuller, like it had a bit of both within it.

"I'd love for you to show me around, Brin"

He looked at me softly, I hadn't realized I shortened his name but it felt natural at the time. I was just about to apologize when a small piece of apricot juiced out from his bite and sat on the corner of his bottom lip. I leant forward and swiped the apricot against his bottom lip. 

I heard him breathe in suddenly and his apricot fell to the floor from his hand. My thumb still placed on his lip, I felt the warmth of his breath on it. Felt it poison my fingertips and vine it's way around my shoulders, up to my throat and then down to all my critical organs. Trapping me right there with him. Wanting nothing more but to succumb to this feeling.

I hesitated, looking at nothing but his lips. I could feel his eyes completely on me, but the lack of moving away urged me to press my thumb and the small piece of apricot further into his warm mouth. The heat around us felt palpable, and I didn't try and hide my apparent arousal.

_You, I want you._

I was about to move away when I felt his hand wrap around my wrist and keep me right where I was. A flicker of tongue against the pad of thumb made me groan softly, an uncertain taste.

I looked up and matched his strong gaze.

"What do I with you?" I asked, my voice hoarse, sounding almost mad. I wanted to be against him, I wanted to feel his mouth on mine, everywhere. I wanted to ease the aches, I wanted to feel him writhe on me.

Brinley shook his head slightly, my hand now cupping the side of his face. "Whatever you want," he breathed.

That was all it took for me to urgently close the gap and crash my lips against his.


	7. Brinley | The Velvet People

** Chapter 7: The Velvet People **

_I needed to tell him._

The thought burned through my mind as his lips moved against mine. The table was distraught and he was pushing me back. We walked hurriedly, nearly tripping over ourselves but never once distancing. Our mouths fixed to each others. He tasted like apricot, but sweeter yet. I wanted to taste him everywhere, I never wanted to stop.

I needed to fucking tell him before he found out himself. I needed to save myself from the ache, he wanted me. He wouldnt once I showed him or told him. He would be disgusted like everyone else, he wouldnt understand and I would be left with two bowls of chicken broth and a half eaten apricot on the floor.

He pushed me against the closed door to my little room. His body was pressed against mine but I wanted more.

"Finn, Finn" I breathed, trying to get his attention. I spoke through desperate kisses, his tongue and mine constantly trying to reach other like two lovers lost. I heard him groan and the sound felt like the best thing on my lips. My fingers went through his hair and he pushed his groin against mine.

I felt his arousal and I wondered if he thought I wasn't attracted to him. He wouldnt be able to feel me the same way I felt him. Yet, I was almost certain I wanted him more than he wanted me.

"Finn," I breathed and he moved his lips to the corner of my jaw, moving down to my neck. I pressed my head back against the door and started rubbing myself against his arousal with no guard. "Finn, stop"

The word ricocheted through me and pushed him back almost immediately. His lips were wet and he stumbled back and away from me. A look of horror and confusion plastered over his face and I wanted to reach out and soothe all those lines of worry. I swallowed a breath and composed my rising chest. He put as much distance between us as the small space allowed and I could feel a burn in my heart. I moved my palm against the ache and pressed it against my chest. 

"I-" Finn spoke, shaking his head "I don't know what went over me, I'm sorry."

"Finn"

His face grimaced at the sound of his name from my mouth, a small broken moan escaped from his lips. "I'll go. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to force myself on you. Oh god, fuck. I'm so fucking sorry, Brinley"

He couldn't even look at me. My lips quivered and I told myself not to cry. I needed to open my mouth and fucking tell him. I didn't want him to go. Holy hell, he was one of the only things I wanted staying. The words were stuck in my throat and I tried pushing them out, tried to make myself admit it.

He looked at me for a small second before shaking his head, his eyes full of raw apology. I reached out to him with my hand when he turned around and walked to the exit. He was too far and too close. I wanted to press him back against me, put my forehead on his and make him see. Will him not to be disgusted with me.

"Finn, I -" I began

"I'll ask someone to come back with money tomorrow. It's the least I can do and I need to know your mother will be alright. I really-" he turned suddenly to me and I took a step back from the surprise of his movement. He looked down at the action and a look of mortification replaced his soft features. He looked to be in physical pain, and my head was hurting so bad I couldn't get myself to explain.

"God, I'm so sorry" he placed his palm on the door handle, the action shook over me. I couldn't scream at him to stop because my mother was sleeping and although she slept heavy whenever I gave her poppy seeds, she could have been woken. So I did the only other thing I wanted to.

I moved forward and pressed my hand against the door not letting it open. I reached forward, grabbing his shirt in my hand and pulling him down to me. I pressed my mouth against his with the power of a dozen armies. Hesitant at first, he pulled back but I followed him with my mouth. I moaned softly against his mouth and pressed my tongue on the opening of his mouth.

_Please._

His whole body losing its tension, he finally started kissing me back. Soft, unlike the previous urgency, he took his time tasting me. Let his tongue roam inside my mouth and his hands met at my hipbones.

I pulled back gently, not letting my body move away from his. If I couldn't tell him, I would have to show him.

I stepped back, "Finn, you should know something before you make your mind up about me"

Confusion flustered through his eyes and I reached for the hem of my shirt. Pulling up the ragged material over my head and letting it drop to the side of my body. I swallowed down my own self disgust at my body. I wanted out of it, I wanted to be rid of this curse to endure life in the wrong coffin, the wrong parts, the wrong feeling. I untied the taper that held my binder.

I looked up to Finn and saw that he wasn't even looking at my chest, he was looking at the scares on my stomach. Some of the newer ones were still raw but I didn't care if he saw. He needed to see all of me to understand. As I undid the wrap that bound my chest, I let the fabric fall to the same place my shirt lay.

Finn moved not an inch and moved his gaze up to my face. Nothing of his features gave away to what he was thinking and I needed something to tell me that maybe I should be hopeful. Maybe he wouldnt run.

I undid the top button of my pants and moved to push the material down as well. I felt the wet sensation of a tear run down my cheek. Before I could remove my pants, Finn walked toward me and stopped my hand the same way I had stopped his leave with the door.

He moved my hands to his and threaded our fingers today.

"I'm sorry," then he kissed me.

I felt his arm wrap around my back and he pushed me into him once more. His hold gentle as if I were to break in his arms. I wanted it, I wanted to break so that everyone could see what was inside was true to my mind, not the body I was in.

He repeated the apology and I didn't understand until he knelt down and kissed the small lacerations that marred my flesh. I pushed his head away but he moved back and kissed the cuts. I began to say my name, but he moved up and returned his lips to mine.

Now the taste of apricot was only a distant memory and I dived deeper. "I think you're the most beautiful person I've ever seen" he spoke, more to himself than me. I wanted to tell him that it meant little to me. He was attracted to my body then, not me. It felt like an anchor weighing me down more than anything. "So handsome and I don't care how or what you've come with. I want you."

The sentence lifted me from the inside and I pulled him back with me to my room. The door pushed from the pressure and Finn pulled me up to wrap my legs around his waist. His arousal directly on mine. He pulled his lips from mine and looked at the room, the small bed in the corner wasn't even a bed but he walked toward it. Gently laying me down on the mattress that now felt like velvet with him in the room.

He looked at me with a deep question, and I nodded. Knowing what he wanted, knowing I wanted the same.

"I'm forced to be someone I don't want to be either, and although I may not understand truly, Brin. I am familiar with how wicked life can be"

I didn't speak but moved up and knelt in front of him. Looking up at him standing beside the mattress, I moved my fingers up to the buttons of his expensive pants and pushed the fabric down. His arousal shaped against the material of his briefs and I licked my lips at how much I wanted to feel him inside me everywhere.

Finn was breathing hard, and he interwove his fingers in my hair. I felt him tracing every move I made, watched as I pulled his briefs down. Watched as I placed a soft tentative kiss on the tip of his length. Wishing I could give him more experience but glad that he would be my first. He moaned out my name and pressed his cock against my lips. I parted my lips and imagined all the things I've wanted to do to men I've seen on the streets in my dreams. I closed my mouth around the head and slowly slid down, trying to reach the base but not quite managing.

Finn's body shook against me as he closed his eyes. He placed his hand at the back of my head and kept me in place. I made a soft gagging sound and his eyes widened in lust. Pulling back, I saw the wet skin and I clenched my thighs. I repeated kissing and going down slowly, letting myself enjoy him. Even if it was only for one night.

"Brinley, fuck," he whispered "You need to stop before I-"

I didn't stop, instead I went slightly faster and felt his cock throb on my tongue. It felt like hot satin and it was the most expensive thing I've ever tasted. I smiled against his head and moved back. He removed his coat and his shirt, letting it fall to the floor. I moved back against the wall and watched as he placed an uncertain knee on the mattress and came closer to me.

I saw his eyes light against the small darkness. The dying oil lamp in my room was going to continue to die and I would continue to dream about this man long after he left too. His lean build and his hard cock was a sight to be painted and put up on exhibition for only the most passionate eyes. No one deserved to look at this man.

"I want you more than I want to breathe right now" he spoke against my skin as his lips kissed the dip of my collarbone. The small well where my heart beat so fast, I was sure he would feel the vibrations on his lips.

"You already had me" 

And it truly felt like that. Like in every universe, he was made to see me for me. 


	8. Finn | To Be Insane

** Chapter 8: To Be Insane **

He couldn't see what I saw and it hurt me something terrible. I wanted to show him in every way possible but knew that I would only have this night. One night.

I moved my mouth down to the small swells in his chest. I knew there was something different about him, something broken and tender but beautiful. I had never been more right. Brinley hadn't shifted in my mind, only got more interesting, more desirable. He was scared that I wouldnt understand but he didn't know I was living the same hell in a completely different way.

He pushed my head up and returned my lips back to his mouth. I knew he wanted me away from the parts of his body he wasn't happy with. So instead I undid his pants and slid them off his legs to the floor. Cotton underwear was the only thing separating us when I moved my body above his and pressed down, easing the ache.

I felt Brinley moan against my mouth and the sound only made me press harder. He lifted his waist and started moving against my length, my cock fitting perfectly. Pressing in just the right places. I felt him everywhere, from the mouth to the soles of my feet where the warmth travelled like a wildfire in a forest. I let him burn me everywhere, let myself go insane with the feeling.

"Please," he whispered against my mouth. Both of us looked like crazed animals rutting against each other, trying to find solace though release. "Please, please."

I lifted his waist with my hands and pulled his briefs down to his knees. Not opening my eyes and not removing my lips from his, I gently pressed myself inside him. The heat of his body covered mine and I felt blind with the feeling. I felt Brinley tense underneath me at my entrance. I didn't move, letting him make that decision when he was ready. I relished the feeling of how he felt wrapped around me and I pressed my face into the curve of his neck, willing myself to stop.

Brinley started to move his hips against mine and I pressed gently back inside him. Moving at a pace that drove me crazy. "Fuck," I sweared, moving my thumb to his lips and feeling him suck on the finger with the same intoxicating pressure that it was like to be inside him. "Brinley, you're... you feel"

I couldn't finish any of my sentences, sounding like an illiterate adolescent boy. I felt like one, he made me feel like perhaps, I wasn't the only one in this world. My mother left but maybe his would stay, I couldn't escape my life, he couldn't escape his body but maybe he'd think differently.

"Finn," he spoke into my hair. I felt his fingers trail my naked back, down to the curve of my arse. Everywhere. God, he burned everywhere. "Never stop"

I shook my head violently against his skin. Hoping he would feel how much I needed this. How much he was to me in that one moment. How happy I was that he was alive and in the complete history of our planet, I lived in the years he did.

"Never." 


	9. Brinley | The Dying of the Light

** Chapter 8: The Dying of the Light **

I woke to the splattering of rain against my window.

I felt the sheets against my body and I slowly opened my eyes to see the dark and gloomy winter day painted on today's atmosphere. Suddenly, the memories flooded back.

I turned my head against the hard mattress and the tough bedsheets. I was alone.

I sat up from the bed and covered myself with the sheets. It was a dream, it had to be a dream. Except, I was naked and the center of my legs hurt. I looked around the room and saw his coat sat next to the fabric I used to bind myself with.

I felt the tears prick my eyes and my whole body shook at the loss. I pulled my knees and hugged them against my chest. I looked around, with no sound from the house save the rain from outside. Beside my bed, a softly rotting apricot sat with the seed still inside.

I knew he had gone. I knew from the start he was never mine to keep. So he left and took the sun with him. 


	10. Finn | How Sweet an Addiction to Poison

** Chapter 10: How Sweet an Addiction to Poison **

I stood in front of the great doors to the manor. Nothing seemed out of order, the guard greeted me naturally, as if I hadn't been missing the whole night. My disappearance meant nothing. I wondered if Brinley was awake. 

I entered the door and walked up the main foyer. Not looking once at my surroundings, I walked to Lincoln's office. My body felt tired, like it was missing something. Like it would always be missing something. I knocked at his door and heard his voice for me to enter. 

I walked toward where he sat at his desk. 

"The house at the end of Baneberry Lane, a corner house under the ground. Send a pouch of silver coins. Take it from my weekly allowance, I care not how you get it, only that it gets there." I spoke directly at him with a voice like my Father's. How proud he would be of me at being a dictator.  

I saw Lincoln's face look at mine hesitantly, he traced the red I knew covered my eyes. The small dips from a lack of sleep. My cold and shivering body unfazed from being inside. As if I were an addict approaching withdrawal symptoms. Lincoln nodded and asked, "Might you want to leave a note, young master?" 

I turned to leave but stopped at the question in his voice. Like he knew. 

I walked to his desk and he placed a small piece of parchment in front of me. I didn't know if Brinley knew how to read, it didn't matter. I hoped he felt me through the paper. I learnt then it didn't matter if you can't understand the words on a piece of paper the same way it might not matter if you don't understand how someone's mind might differ from their body. It only mattered of the person inside it. 

I dipped the nib in ink and wrote; 

_I'd still find you. In every lifetime, every world and every universe. I'd walk back and choose you. Perhaps even waltz around so someone could steal from me and I'd have to stay with you. I'd still find you. I hope someday you find yourself as well._


End file.
